


Glatteis: Unter der Nacht

by xenobia4



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Addiction, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: It gets more difficult distinguishing dreams from nightmares - or even what's real and what's not. But if it's a dream, then there should be no guilt.





	Glatteis: Unter der Nacht

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this initially, I was aiming for a Christmas-themed story. Instead, it more or less ended up being summer/autumn-themed. 
> 
> HEY! I tried!

Spring may have brought new life, but summer brought heat and longer sunny days. The children were laughing and playing. They were home for the long break, spending the days with friends and the nights chasing fireflies and faeries.

Perched on the top of his staff, Jack was by the bench in the park, watching as groups of children played Tag among other games. He had become bored on the Eastern hemisphere when night fell and parents called their children in for the night; he had even dropped by Warren, which Bunnymund was not thrilled about. He made Jack leave, not just the town, but the continent, not trusting that the winter spirit would not make it snow; so Jack found himself back in his own hometown of Burgess, still bored.

Keeping his staff erect, he fell back and hung upside down with the bend of his knees at the top of the hook. The hood to his sweater hung behind him and he allowed his arms to dangle. He was honestly considering freezing the jungle gym thirty feet in front of him just to spruce things up. He shut his eyes and started swinging back and forth, using his arms to propel himself, trying to shake the idea, no matter how cool it sounded. However, when he swung back, his back hit up against something and before he was able to pull himself up to look at what or who it was, he found himself enveloped by darkness.

Immediately, he jerked and filled with panic, but he was back in the light at the park, now on the ground, his staff next to him. The sky was back to being blue above, but when he rolled on his side to push himself up, he was staring at the bottom of a black cloak. Instead of a similar emotion from before, he sighed in aggravation.

“Don’t you have a kid’s bed to hide under somewhere?”

Jack pushed himself up and dusted himself off.

“Even I can have downtime, Jack,” Pitch responded, tone even as he watched the children play on the jungle gym.

“Then can’t you have it somewhere else?” Jack muttered, picking up his staff.

Just as he was standing straight again, he nearly fell backwards when one of Pitch’s nightmares had started to wrap itself around his legs. He wound up under his arms, as though it were a cat searching for attention.

“Always so negative. And here I thought that was always supposed to be my thing.” He turned to look slyly at Jack, who was busy trying to get the nightmare to stop. He found the scene rather amusing. “Now, you’ve acted as though you’ve forgotten our last little escapade.”

Jack frowned, stopping at trying to rid the sand creature and letting it wrap itself around his legs. His entire expression changed and he did not even look at Pitch when he responded with, “ _That_ didn’t happen. That was a dream that _you_ invaded.”

A laugh escaped Pitch’s throat. “You didn’t mind then.” He paused before adding, “Or the time before.”

“You—”

“And what makes you think that this isn’t a dream?” Another frown befell Jack’s face before looking at the kids playing on the playground, their laughter ringing in his ears. However, the sky began growing dark and Jack found himself trying to focus when black shadows began circling the children. Pitch, who was now behind Jack, grabbed the winter spirit’s shoulders when Jack instinctively moved forward. He growled at him, but, when turned back to look, the children’s faces and forms had all morphed to pale white with black holes sunk into their faces where their eyes should have been.

A pang struck Jack in the chest and he pulled back, eyes wide. The laughter that the children had been singing now sounded warped and echoed.

One-by-one, their laughter vanished as the nightmares swirled around them, making them disappear.

“You see, the others are remembered when their times pass, but the moment the winter months dissipate, so do their memories of you.” Jack clamped down on his jaw, shaking his head as his eyes clouded over. Pitch had leaned down to wrap his arms and cloak around Jack, whispering right by his ear. “I’m inside you, Jack. I know everything about you.” He smirked when he felt Jack tense and the winter spirit knitted his eyebrows together. “Our differences and similarities. But even you know we’re more alike. Isn’t that right?” He slid his hand down the front of Jack’s sweater, then slid his hand inside it once at the bottom and ran his hand up his abdomen. His other hand, still on Jack’s neck, moved ever so slightly, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

Jack glanced downwards, thinking, not appearing bent on pushing Pitch away. When the other’s hand set on his ribcage, Jack glanced back at him with a somewhat apprehensive look. “It’s a dream, right?”

Pitch grinned and used his other hand to have Jack turn his head completely towards him, pressing his mouth down on the others. Jack abandoned the grip he had on his staff, allowing it to his the shadow-covered grass below as he completely turned to face the dark essence.

It was not really turning against the guardians if it was a dream, right?

Bringing up his arms, he wrapped them around Pitch’s neck and shoulders, allowing the other to be able to pick him up as Jack immediately wrapped his legs around Pitch’s waist. Any contact was welcomed, especially when it was something he never even got to experience when he was, well… _alive._ For over three hundred years, he had no contact whatsoever, and that was not just limited to sexual. Giving into Pitch was a guilty pleasure and, just like before, it was the only time he could feel heat.

His mind sent flashbacks of the past spring – the first time he finally gave in whenever the Dark Man tried his tricks. Then, he did not completely give in, but he let the shadows do more than they ought; and there had been Pitch, grinning in the shadows, knowing full well the effect it would have. It gradually escalated from that point. Yet, what had started out as Pitch using the shadows, eventually it lead to straight contact, even if it was only in a dream.

Each time, Pitch held it over Jack’s head like blackmail.

And each time, Jack denied enjoying it, no matter how much he did.

Or how much during he was calling out for more.

Jack’s eyes clamped shut when long fingers ran down his back and pointed teeth had started to bite onto his neck. Cold, iced air escaped from his mouth in the mixture of a moan, feeling the heat from the other’s mouth.

Some way or another, Pitch had managed to counteract Jack’s frost touch and icy skin. Jack still was not sure how Pitch did it or why he would, but it was the only time that he could feel heat of any type. It was another thing that had him drawn back every single time. It was like an addiction – one he had no intentions of giving up any time soon.

Perhaps it was due to the state of the dream, but Jack found himself with a lack of clothing items and Pitch leaning against a black-shadowed tree, his hands holding Jack’s thighs to keep him supported on his lap while he stood. Jack still had his arms wrapped around Pitch’s neck and shoulders as he buried his face in the dark spirit’s neck, trying to muffle his voice from sounding like a hormonal teenager when he felt digits spreading him open. He would have to admit that, despite being a benevolent spirit, Pitch was always strangely gentle, as though making sure nothing would cause Jack actual physical harm.

It was strange.

Something he had found odd from the very first time. Something that made him want to get into the Dark Man’s head and discover what the real reason behind everything was.  

He could not hold back his voice when a longer and thicker object replaced the digits and he was brought down on it, his sweet spot being hit. He crossed his ankles behind Pitch’s back as he was moved up and down, also making sure to repay the other for the biting as his own teeth dug into Pitch’s neck. His nails gripped into the dark spirit’s back and shoulders and he could feel his nails digging through the cloak.

“You say your essence is fun, don’t you?” Pitch asked rhetorically, but got an odd-sounding whimper as a response as he bounced Jack again. This time whispering, he continued with, “And you’re having fun, aren’t you?” right by the frost spirit’s ear. Jack nodded slightly, eyes still shut tight. “Let me hear how much fun you’re having, then.” His voice came out as smooth as ice, which, in any other scenario, Jack would have found ironic.

However, instead of some witty retort, Jack came out with a quiet, “…more….” When Pitch did not think Jack was being loud enough, he brought Jack down a bit more roughly, hitting that Sweet Spot again, this time getting Jack to cry out, “Nng…more! Please…just…more!” as his grip on Pitch got tighter. “Don’t stop.”

Pitch chuckled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

When he shifted Jack again, Jack gripped his thighs tighter and aided in moving himself. His head threw back and a gargled moan came out. It left his neck completely exposed, which Pitch took advantage of, grabbed a fistful of Jack’s hair to keep his head pulled back and bit the winter spirit’s neck again, this time with more force. Tears of pleasure formed at the corner of Jack’s eyes as Pitch licked the area he had just bitten. Running his own hands up through the Dark Man’s hair, Jack pulled away from the grip and straightened his back, panting as he was thrust into again and again. He pressed their foreheads together, his breath coming out in a frost.

All he kept thinking was that it was a dream as he took the initiative this time and pressed their mouths together.

The very thing that fed his addiction met his tongue, filling him with warmth that was otherwise foreign to him.

It was like cocaine: originally, it was something small, but it was enough to keep bringing him back, always wanting more. More of Pitch bringing heat wherever he touched, more of Pitch’s breath filling his lungs and chest, more of Pitch filling him with heat over and over.

He was an addict.

He knew that.

He just did not care.

So he found himself forcing the movements to be faster and harder, begging for the feeling of the first time and the rush that came with it. Pitch held his back and thigh, not holding back from being as rough as he could and pushing Jack so far over the edge, the winter spirit was moaning and yelling like a hormonal school girl with his grip so tight in Pitch’s hair and on his back, he could have drawn blood.

When it finally did come to Pitch filling him with that familiar heat, and as amazing as it felt, it was still not like the first rush he had experienced. It was definitely close. And perhaps that was another thing that kept bringing him back: he was chasing that first rush.

Again.

Just like an addict.

A cry left his throat as he collapsed, his arms falling loosely around Pitch’s neck and shoulders as the grip he had been holding onto with his thighs fell loose, as well. The only thing that kept him falling to the ground was Pitch’s hold still around him.

Jack was exhausted, his body and mind completely wrecked, he did not have the energy to as much as fathom moving on his own. It was always at the end that he really noticed Pitch being gentle. Instead of leaving him to fall, he just wrapped Jack in his cloak and held him, like a child would cling to a toy or teddy bear. He slid down the shadowed tree, still holding Jack close under the cloak and merely sat there with the drained spirit still cradled.

Instead of that sly and devilish demeanor, he was caring and soft.

It was a completely different Pitch that he showed to the world or the other guardians. Or even Jack, unless he was close to incapacitation. Unfortunately, Jack was not coherent enough to give it much thought by the end of their games and typically forgot about it by the time he was back in his right mind.

But it did cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, Pitch welcomed and needed the contact as much as Jack did. Because neither one of them had anyone to be close to other than each other. And, in that respect, Pitch was right: they were alike.

Just as that entered his head, Jack opened his eyes, his vision coming into focus. However, instead of seeing the warped reality of a dream, he was introduced back to the park; the sun still shining high in the sky and the grass was soft and green below him. He blinked several times, trying to gain a sense of reality.

He was on his back and his staff was set next to him.

With one hand gripping his staff, he groaned as he sat up, holding his head. Shaking it, he turned to look around. All remnants of Pitch’s presence were gone and Jack was awake, back in the reality of his hometown of Burgess. Standing his staff in front of him, he sighed as he grasped it and hung off of it. Though everything had happened in a dream, his entire body tingled and he was still able to feel a settling warmth in his chest.

He exhaled a breath, a smile making its home on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think! I have another Pitch/Jack RotG fic I wanna upload, but I don't know if there are still readers out there! (^ ^*)


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